


in which felix refuses to mind his own business

by introductory



Series: season twelve snippets [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining, Survivor Guilt, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductory/pseuds/introductory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're training twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and for what?  What is <i>so</i> great about Washington that you're practically <i>killing</i> yourself to rescue him?"</p><p>[Written between seasons 11 and 12; <b>no spoilers</b> for s12 episodes.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	in which felix refuses to mind his own business

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written 2014 April 02, before s12 began airing; cleaned up and posted after 12.08.

Tucker's working out after-hours when Felix walks in on him. "Yo," says Felix, waving a lazy hand, but Tucker just ignores him, punching another button on the treadmill because he needs to push himself harder because if they fail to get the others back and it's because of him then he'll never be able to forgive himself, and it's another few minutes of Felix standing there like a creeper before Tucker finally says, 

"The fuck do you want, Felix." 

Felix just shrugs. He's out of armor, wearing fatigue bottoms and a faded ARMONIA INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY shirt that more than likely doesn't belong to him, and his wet hair is sticking up in all directions. "Nothing," he says. "You know it's like, 2200 hours, right?" 

"Yeah?" Tucker looks at his watch: he's been here since a little after dinner, but he's not all that tired -- or at least, not tired enough to call it a day. "So what." 

"So _nothing_ ," says Felix, a little sourly, but he doesn't say anything else after that. Tucker just sighs, irritated by the interruption, and keeps running. Training with the recruits consists mostly of practicing exercises, memorizing attack patterns, and tamping down one miserable fucking headache after another, so Tucker has to handle cardio and weights on his own time. It doesn't afford him a lot of time for sleep -- or any other bedroom activities, for that matter -- but he's never been in better shape before in his life. (Even Simmons commented on his physique once, stammering a little; Tucker mostly just chalked it up to Simmons's perpetual Big Gay Awakening and pretended he didn't hear.) 

He gets in another three-fourths of a mile before Felix takes a seat on one of the weight benches, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Okay, seriously," he says, rubbing a hand through his jet-black hair. "You're training twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and for what? What is _so_ great about Washington that you're practically _killing_ yourself to rescue him?" 

Tucker freezes. Punches the _off_ button on the treadmill and slows to a stop, looks right into Felix's eyes. "What's so great about Wash?" he repeats, and he must look pretty fucking mad for Felix to flinch, but it's been a full day of drills and meetings and Tucker is fucking _pissed_. Felix spent a grand total of ten minutes in the canyon with them before it all went to hell: he doesn't fucking _know_ Wash, what he's been through, what he's done for Tucker and Caboose and Church and Carolina and even for the Reds, _fuck_ this  guy --

"You wouldn't know what's so great about Wash even if I told you," says Tucker. "You wouldn't know because you're a cheap, fifth-rate Han Solo imitation who couldn't tell his ass from a plasma grenade if it was fucking on _fire_. Wash is  twice -- _ten_ times the soldier you or I will ever be. So what if he's a little  crazy -- " Felix snorts -- "okay, he's a _lot_ crazy, but if you'd gone through even half of what he has, you wouldn't even be _breathing_ , much less fighting for your fucking life -- "

(Fighting for _our_ lives -- )

"And you really, you really want to know what's so fucking great about Wash?" Tucker's stepped off the treadmill, hands balled into fists, and he's not even looking for a fight but he'd take one anyway: anything to stop feeling like this. "It's that I was always such an asshole to him, I kept telling him to fuck off and leave me alone, and even right at the end when he closed that tunnel, all I could think about was how much I hated him for leaving us behind -- " Tucker sucks in a breath, chest tight -- "but he did it because he wanted to protect us, you get it? Wash saved my life a hundred times and I never even told him _thank you_ , and now Wash is, Wash is -- "

Tucker doesn't know how that sentence was supposed to end, but his throat is suddenly so dry he can't speak. 

"Wow," says Felix. He's staring hard at Tucker, eyes round and surprised. "Jeez, dude, are you in love with him or something?" 

" -- _What?_ "

Felix's eyes widen even more. "Holy shit," he says. "I would _not_ have guessed that, like, _ever_. There's this rumor, but I always figured, you know, rumor, not really the most reliable source of  infor -- "

Tucker finally finds his voice. "Shut the fuck up, Felix," he says; it comes out as a growl. "Whatever you think you know, just -- shut the _fuck up_." 

"Hey, man," says Felix, holding up his hands innocently. "I'm not the first to wonder, I won't be the last. Kimball actually asked me about this the other day, whether I knew -- she said she didn't want you fucking things up for the New Republic 'cause you had to choose between us and your Freelancer boyfriend." 

"Tell Kimball," says Tucker, taking several long gulps from his water bottle, "that if she wants to know, she can fucking ask me herself." 

Felix rakes his hand through his hair again, and Tucker's struck, not for the first time, by how, from certain angles, Felix almost reminds him of Wash. "If it helps, I'll just tell her you weren't," Felix says. "I mean, it's not like you guys were actually _together_ , right? 'Cause like -- no offense -- but even if he did want to nail you or whatever, I can't actually imagine either of you figuring this shit out without, like, psychic powers." 

"Right." Tucker puts his earbuds back in, turns up the volume. He's being an asshole to Felix right now, even moreso than the guy usually deserves, but he's furious with himself for running his mouth off to Kimball's hired gun of all people. "Will you just fucking leave already?" 

"Going, going," says Felix, but apparently the universe hates Tucker tonight because Felix turns around just short of the door, shooting Tucker a look that's mostly sympathetic and only a little shrewd, and says, "Hey, if we get them back, you should tell him, you know? Hella long shot, but -- can't hurt to try, can it?" 

He's looking at Tucker like he expects him to answer, and even if Tucker had time for pity he sure as hell doesn't want it from him. "Yeah, Felix," says Tucker, "I'll be sure to let him know," and Felix disappears around the doorframe. Tucker turns the treadmill back on, setting the pace an extra level higher: he's going to crash after this, might even be useless during tomorrow's drills, but right now he just wants to stop fucking thinking about Wash, wants to run and run until he's too tired to think about anything at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Can't/won't/don't know how to unsee Ueeyasu's [Wash & Felix designs](http://ueeyasu.tumblr.com/post/83499740073/what-do-the-underparts-of-halo4-armor-even-look).


End file.
